


With Some Tea

by Kentrakshi (Sartorially)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blackrom, F/M, Kismesis, NSFW, Other, Xenophilia, tentabulge, the sexy scene is kinda short, toxic Kimesis at that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:45:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sartorially/pseuds/Kentrakshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>IN THE PROCESS OF BEING TOTALLY REWRITTEN BECAUSE THIS VERSION SUCKS. I'M SERIOUS.</p><p>Bro Strider hates his employer. And when the snipping goes sour, there's only one thing to appease either of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Some Tea

“More tea, Miss Crocker?” Smooth and honey-sweetened tone, leaving soft pale-pink lips curved into a sneer. Dirk straightened, turning to the old-fashioned trolley, to retrieve the delicate china teapot. Dressed in the usual white and black, he was confined to a crisp dress shirt and tight pants. He knew why. But he wasn't about to be the one to blink first. With a clink, specially flavored tea was poured quietly into her cup.

Betty, for she was masquerading as a human today – and preferred the simple name as well – hooked a slim finger into the stem of her cup. Bringing it to her lips, she blatantly allowed her eyes to trace over his rear, and the way his dark pants gripped him. She was flawless in her wardrobe choices, as usual. However, she couldn't remain silent for long. He viewed it as a weakness – a lack of response to his anger at serving her. Thus, she let her fuchsia-painted lips to curl upwards slightly.

“Strider, I must ask you a question.”

Thunk! went the pot on the trolley, “Fire away.”

“Do you think I am unaware of your interest in my dear Jane?” She waited for his response, and was coolly pleased to find he didn't miss a beat in turning back to refill her little plate with a slice of cake. Stony as ever.

“I wouldn't put it past you to be unaware of how I spend my time away from you, Miss Crocker. You're rather self-absorbed, after all.”

Hm. Not too shabby. “All talk and no bite, Strider. Trying to hard to sound proper. We both know that you prefer your filthy half-baked way of speaking to this.”

“Serving you, I can only give you the best. It's a little hard to top the gift of my presence, but I believe I do well enough.”

Jaw tightening, she reached up to tear those damned shades off of his face. They hid him too well, allowed him to gain an upper hand in this war of wills that tainted so deliciously black. Golden gaze hot with fury at his shield being taken away, he glared mutinously into her faintly pink eyes. She rather liked that look on him. Then again, she preferred Dirk's face to be twisted in pleasure and shame over that very pleasure.

Perfectly manicured hands reached to cup his face, frame it. Oh, she'd never admit it, but the way his stubbled jaw brazenly rubbed against her palms was frightfully lovely. Tugging him down, forcing him to bend at the waist to get closer, Betty ran her tongue over his lips, “Losing your touch, Strider? Must I always make the first move?”

Their lips met softly, her head tilting for the angle to shift, to be just right. He responded by dragging her lower lip into his mouth and biting harshly. His own tongue ran over her lips to collect her precious blood. Hissing in pleased displeasure – yes, it was conflicting feeling, but it was one she only ever felt with him – she sank her own deviously sharp teeth into his lips.

“Watch it, Crocker,” he growled at her, a hand burying itself in her previously perfectly styled hair, yanking her head back, “I have a date tonight.”

Chuckling at his defiance, Betty slid a hand down his front to fondle at the front of his pants, “I doubt that she'll mind you a little bloodied, or bruised. Your skin always looks best marred, anyway.” Roughly squeezing, she pulled a gasp from him as the words surged in his gut. He always did respond when she spoke of marking him up. Practically begged for it between insults and swears.

“You make my skin want to shrivel away. I doubt that it cares what you think looks best,” snapping back, both hands at her throat and squeezing. He wasn't losing. Not this time. Her grip tightened on his cock again, the pain flitting up his spine. Damn. As much as he enjoyed the softness of love and cherishing, Betty offered him the harsh fuck that he needed from time to time.

“Feisty today,” she cooed, her other hand pressing to his throat in return and applying harsh pressure. She was stronger, but he was powerful for a human. It made him perfect for this sordid little affair. “Going to make me plead for it, Strider?” In one fluid motion, she had him pressed down on the table, spread out and growling at her like some sort of wild howlbeast. She leaned over him, her hologram flickering for a moment before shutting down completely. Her sharp, talon-like nails dug into his fragile human skin.

“But you can't. You can't make me do anything. Because you're weak and need someone to control your every thought, don't you?” As she spoke, Betty leaned over him, glaring into his beautiful eyes. Yes. Yes, hate was swirling just beneath the surface. Perfect.

After a moment – a standoff between the greatest threat humanity had to offer and the oppressing Condescension of Alternia – Dirk spat directly into her eyes. Struggling futilely, he bared his teeth in a snarl. It matched his sharp features so well, made him cold at ice and lively at fire. “Get off of me, bitch,” slipped between them.

“Oh, I think not. You fight and you kick and you shove, but you don't want me to stop.” Easily unbuttoning his pants and tugging his belt from the loops, Betty dropped her gaze to the tenting of his briefs. Releasing his throat, she replaced her palm with her dangerous teeth, “You've never once whispered the safeword. You like it. You crave what I give you. I completely own you at this very moment, and you love it, Strider.”

He couldn't deny it. Not with her over him like this, dominating his very sense of person. But he could fight, tooth and nail, for her respect. His hands, gloved palms warmed by his flesh, slid to cup what a human would call breasts. Then lower still, to the writhing mess at her groin. “I own you, Crocker.” He gave her what she desired most, what she needed more than anything: a fight. He couldn't keep up this proper act any more, though. He was aching under her ministrations, and well aware of just how badly she needed this. “C'mon, Crocker. Y'gonna fuck me or not?”

Betty stepped back to disrobe herself over her patterned evening dress, gripping the base of her bulge firmly and stroking, “I thought you'd never ask. However, you'll be the one preparing today.” That earned her a groan, but he shifted off the table to retrieve the lube from the folds of her dress. Her hand in his gelled hair forced him to his knees, her thumb prying his mouth open.

Her bulge took it from there, slithering into his mouth and forcing itself down his throat. Dirk gagged, tears prickling at his eyes. Still, he would not back down, sliding his slickened fingers down to begin easing his body open. The sting of moving a little too fast for comfort was necessary. Already, she was growing impatient of fucking his throat – restricting his breathing. Yanking his head upward, forcing him to stand, she bit out an order, “Hands on the table.”

God, finally. Pulling his fingers from himself, the human turned to bend for her, legs spread and ass arched into the air. “You're a coddamn slut, you know,” she was slipping, fingers finding their familiar places at his hips, “All spread open and begging for me. Who'd have thought that you'd be reduced to this?”

“Only one reduced here is ya, Batterbitch. Fuckin' a human after – what do ya call it – makin' black eyes at 'em all day? How far ya've fallen.” Dirk couldn't continue, because she forced herself in without warning. A pained hiss escaped him, caused his fingers to curl against the edge of the table. “Fuck...” he whimpered, head falling forward slightly.

Her nails bit into his hips, teeth digging lines down his already scarred back. Marking him here, there, and everywhere in between. “Yes, you damned whore. Yes. I don't think I've ever met someone more deserving of being my kismesis. You disgust me, intrigue me, fight me.” Punctuating her words with harsh, unforgiving thrusts, Betty leaned in to run her tongue over the shell of his delicately reddening ear, “Jegus above, I loathe you.”

Dirk began rocking back into her thrusts, eyes drifting shut while his mouth hung open. Panting, shaking, shuddering, pleading for more, “God, yes, I'm a fuckin' whore. Fuckin' fill me up, ya bitch. I haven't got all day!” Their pace was rushed, furious and full of the frenzied need for completion. He came first, painting the floor beneath the table with his semen as Betty pumped him full with vibrantly fuchsia essence.

He slumped against the table, feeling her drip down his thighs and puddle on the floor while she puttered about to clean up. Chuckling dryly, she wrapped him in her arms for one of the few moments that they were calm with one another: aftercare. Sitting in her lap, his head on her shoulder, while she stroked his spiky blond head. Smiling slightly, he fought the urge to laugh. Here they were, toxic lovers, in a moment of tranquil respite. Pushing his date with the ever lovely Jane from his mind, he settled against the troll, kissing her cheek slightly. His eyes landed on his pants, long since discarded. He'd have to get a new pair – those were sporting a large tear.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, man. This was spawned during this JaneBro thing me and my dearest Janey got into. I just really like kismesis shit involving Bro. He's such a lovable bastard.
> 
> I both want to cuddle his ass and do horrible things to him. Sigh.
> 
> There may be more to come.


End file.
